L – Lollipop Promise
L – Lollipop Promise
Mom stood firm; arms crossed like a chocolate-free gatekeeper.
Mom: “No more candy today.”
The five-year-old, Arya, held the lollipop like a golden ticket to Wonka’s factory.
Arya: “But Mommy, I promise I’ll eat my veggies… tomorrow!” (Eyes wide and with tears like dewdrops on morning grass)
Mom: “You said that yesterday.” (Eyebrow Raised).
Arya: “That was a different tomorrow. Today’s tomorrow is more honest.”(Her tone sounded serious.)
It made Mom feel as if Arya just explained quantum physics.
Mom: “Still no.” (stifled a laugh).
Arya thought hard, chewing her lip. Then, with melodramatic form, she dropped down on her knees.
Arya: “Fine! If I can’t have candy, I will not eat anything and survive on air and my sorrow.”
Mom: “You have to eat broccoli and dal,” (replied coolly).
Arya stood up and acted like a tragic heroine.
Arya: “Then I want to write my will. I leave all my crayons to Chintu, and my unicorn diary to science. My books will be with you. ”
Mom: (While returning to the kitchen.) “Noted and Now go finish your carrots.”
Arya: “But they’re orange sadness!”
Arya sighed and stared at the carrots like they were criminal foods. Then, brightening, she looked up.
Arya: “Okay. If I eat just one carrot, can I get half a lollipop?”
Mom: “No.”
Arya: “A lick of a lollipop?”
Mom: “Nice try.”
Arya gave her a slow nod.
Arya: “You drive a hard bargain, woman. But mark my words…” She pointed at her own heart solemnly. “Tomorrow, those veggies are going down.”
Mom: Laughed out loud as she walked away. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Arya, disappointed, whispered to herself….
Arya: “Operation: Veggie Bypass begins at 1900 hours.”
And somewhere in the living room, the dog sneezed — probably allergic to drama.
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